Peter's Hell

www.AntonioGarciaBooks.com

Peter stood at the bottom of the stairs outside the front door of where he and his wife, Jennifer lived.

He took deep breaths, trying to build the courage to walk in.

Around him, the world seemed silent. So quiet, that the only sound he heard was his own heartbeat.

“You can do this. You can do this,” he kept repeating as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

They had been having issues in their marriage, but he never thought that she would do this to him.

Apparently, the long hours he was putting in at work to provide her with the life she had always wanted had led to her to the arms of another man.

Peter had only recently discovered the truth. It started a few weeks back when he noticed his wife was more active on text than usual. When he had asked her who she was texting, she told him it was an old girlfriend she had reconnected with.

Relieved, he had accepted her answer.

With each notification buzz, though, he couldn’t help but begin to doubt what she had told him.

Whenever he could, he would peek at her phone when it buzzed, indicating that she had a new message.

The few times he was able to see them, the name that appeared was indeed a girl’s name.

He felt ridiculous that he was being so jealous, but no matter how hard he tried to push his concerns aside, they would just come back when she received her next message.

Peter was sure that she didn’t suspect him of being jealous and his instinct was proven right, as one evening when she had jumped into the shower, she left her phone on her nightstand, unlocked.

Most people had become accustomed to locking their phones, especially if they were trying to hide something, but since hers was unlocked, it only demonstrated to him that she had nothing to hide from him.

He wished he had stopped there, but his jealousy begged him to look anyways.

While she was in the shower, he brought up the text messages from her “Girlfriend”, only to quickly realize that though the name was a female one, it was clearly messages from a man.

Even if the tone was enough to demonstrate that it was a man on the other end of the messages, he didn’t have to scroll far before he came across the nudes they had been sending each other.

Though he was in shock of what he had discovered, he was equally shocked that she hadn’t locked the phone and even had left it out alone with him.

‘Did she want me to find this?’ he thought, quickly closing the messaging app and putting the phone back on the nightstand before she came out of the bathroom.

He wanted to confront her right then and there, but he was afraid that’s what she was waiting for to use as an excuse to leave him.

As each day passed, he sat at work wondering if his wife was with the other man.

Finally, he gave in and bought some hidden cameras that he installed while she was at one of her fitness classes.

Now he could sit in his office and watch each room of the house to see when her lover appeared.

It wasn’t long and Peter found himself bolting upright in his chair as he watched a man he had never seen before arrive at his back door.

Peter watched as the man was let in by Jennifer and led by her hand directly to the bedroom.

He now wished he hadn’t put one in the bedroom as he sat there watching them make love. Sickened, he turned off his phone, half-ran to the bathroom, and threw up.

His worst fears had now been confirmed and as he leaned back in his chair, he knew what he had to do.

Suddenly, a calmness overtook him. He thought he would go home enraged, but instead, he kept his calm throughout the rest of the day and throughout the evening as he and his wife watched T.V. together.

While she was a little taken aback when she tried to initiate sex and Peter told her that he wasn’t feeling well, she shrugged it off and rolled over to fall asleep.

As she slept, Peter planned out his revenge.

Sure that she was in a deep asleep, Peter got out of bed and moved his loaded gun from inside the safe to the downstairs closet behind some old board games.


“Have a good day at work, honey,” Jennifer said, kissing him on the cheek.

He smiled back and quickly walked off before his eyes could betray his intentions.

Later, on camera, the man once again arrived at the back door.

Peter immediately told his boss that he wasn’t feeling well and needed to go.

The drive home was like a blur. He didn’t see the traffic as he drove. He was on autopilot. He was on a mission. He was already dead inside.

Knowing what needed to be done, he stood, frozen in place, clenching and unclenching his fist, and taking calming breaths.

When he was ready, he walked up to the door, cringing a little as the knob squeaked when he turned it.

Upstairs, he could here the sounds of his wife and her lover having sex. The grunting and moaning were like nails on chalkboard.

Moving to the closet to get the gun, he knew of only one way to end the heartbreaking sounds.

As he held the gun in his hand, he took on the look of an executioner.

He walked up the stairs at the same rhythm the sound of the knocking bed was making. Every bang against the wall felt like a stab to the heart and when he reached the top of the stairs, he thought it ironic that they climaxed at the same time he crashed through the door.

Both Jennifer and her lover’s eyes widened.

He wasn’t aiming the gun at them at first. He just stood there, staring at them, letting it all sink in.

When he had enough and before they could protest, he raised the gun and shot them both. His wife was barely able to start her scream before she was forever silenced.

Taking one last look at her betrayal, Peter pointed the gun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.


Peter stood at the bottom of the stairs outside the front door of where he and his wife, Jennifer lived.

He took deep breaths, trying to build the courage to walk in.

Around him, the world seemed silent. So quiet, that the only sound he heard was his own heartbeat.

“You can do this. You can do this,” he kept repeating as clenched and unclenched his fist.

As Peter finally walked up the stairs and through the front door, a figure slowly walked up the sidewalk to the corner of the house.

He patiently watched as Peter walked inside. Not long after came the shots, then Peter once again appeared standing in front of his front door.

Enjoying the show, the man watched as over and over, Peter appeared, walked into his home, then a few minutes later, the gun shots rang out leading to Peter once again appearing on the sidewalk.

Even though the stranger was close to where Peter was standing, Peter didn’t seem to notice him standing there.

The stranger allowed Peter to run the script a few more times and when it became boring to watch, he decided to change things up.
“Peter,” the stranger said, startling him.

“What? Who?” Peter asked in succession, trying his best to hide his intentions.

“It’s okay, Peter,” the stranger started. “I know what you’re about to do and I completely approve.”

Feeling ashamed, Peter said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The stranger watched as Peter tried to turn and walk away but could only take one step before hitting an invisible barrier.

“What the hell?” Peter said, touching the barrier to see if it was real.

“Well, not exactly,” the stranger said.

“What?” Peter said, turning back to face the stranger.

“It’s more like Where in hell?” the stranger corrected.

The stranger enjoyed seeing Peter confused. He wasn’t about to make it too easy on him.

After a few minutes, Peter finally asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re in hell,” the stranger answered. “That’s why you can’t go anywhere. You’re in hell and the only thing you can do is relive your crime over and over again.”

Peter wasn’t buying it, even though he was unable to move past that moment.

Seeing Peter’s reluctance and wanting to enjoy demonstrating what he meant, the stranger said, “I tell you what. I’ll let you go through the script without the power to stop, but the ability to see and understand everything you’re doing.”

Suddenly and without being able to control his movement, Peter started walking into the house, his head turning to the stranger in utter confusion.

A few minutes, the stranger heard the gun shots, followed by Peter himself screaming right before a final gunshot silenced him.

Peter once again appeared standing in front of the sidewalk, but before he could ask what was happening, he immediately started walking back into the house, never losing the look of complete dumbfoundness.

The stranger watched as he walked through the motions another few times, before deciding to switch it up.

“You know what?” he started. “I think we’ll mix it up a little bit this time and have you use a knife.”

Peter didn’t like the face the stranger was making, but it didn’t matter. As soon as the stranger stopped talking, Peter started walking back in the house.

A few minutes later, the stranger could hear the screams of Peter, his wife, and her lover, as he stabbed each one of them, while screaming himself, and then his screams of pain as he stabbed himself to death.

Peter appeared again onto the sidewalk, still screaming, but before he could say anything, or even stop screaming, he once again started walking back into the house, his screams rising even louder than before.

The stranger took in the sounds of his screams as he heard him just inside the front door, as he walked all the way up the stairs, and once again as he committed the deed in the bedroom.

Wanting to pour salt on the wound, the stranger started waving to him each time he appeared. The screams never died.

Finally growing bored, even though Peter continued to scream, the stranger decided to stop Peter’s repetitious nightmare.

“What’s happening?” Peter asked, more terrified than he had ever been.

It always annoyed the stranger when they would make him repeat himself.

‘Dumb animals,’ the stranger thought as he said, “I already told you. You’re in hell.”

“Wha, why?” Peter asked.

The stranger rolled his eyes and answered him by waving his hand toward the house.

“I really killed my wife?” Peter asked.

Annoyed by the sad look that Peter displayed, the stranger said, “Fine. Back to the gun.”

Immediately, Peter started walking back into the house, screaming once again knowing what he was about to do.

After a few pass throughs, the stranger once again stopped the routine and said, “Are you having fun yet?”

Even more confused, Peter said, “What? Of course not! Why are you making me do this?”

“I’m not making you do this,” the stranger said matter-of-factly. “You are.”

“I don’t understand,” Peter pleaded. “How do I stop then.”

The stranger laughed at him.

“You see,” the stranger began. “You humans create your own hell with the guilt from all the wrong you’ve ever done. Even if at some point, you forgive yourself for this crime, which is unlikely, your hell will just change to another moment in your life where you did something terrible, and even with all of eternity, I have yet to come across a human that was able to move past more than two moments in their life.”

All of a sudden, the stranger tilted his head as if he heard something.

“Well, I’m afraid I have to leave,” the stranger said. “I may return sometime. I rather enjoy watching you torture yourself.”

Before Peter could say anything else, the stranger vanished.


Peter stood at the bottom of the stairs outside the front door of where he and his wife, Jennifer lived.

He took deep breaths, trying to build the courage to walk in.

Around him, the world seemed silent. So quiet, that the only sound he heard was his own heartbeat.

“You can do this. You can do this,” he kept repeating as clenched and unclenched his fist.

When he was ready, he walked up to the door, cringing a little as the knob squeaked when he turned it.